


Hunting Instinct

by KittyCarmine



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-19
Updated: 2011-11-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 08:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyCarmine/pseuds/KittyCarmine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because sometimes you can forget that Eric is a deeply-conflicted serial killer. Profanity and implications inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunting Instinct

Eric swore vehemently as soon as he was inside. That had not gone well. Pushing his hair back out of his eyes he resisted the urge to make a fist and smash it against the closed door. He'd killed often enough that this should be a matter of routine by now, or was that the problem?

On more than one occasion recently he had caught himself comparing the effectiveness of different execution techniques as if it were for a game. On the night before last he had actually _enjoyed_ the chase when a target who was savvier than most got spooked and ran. He couldn't remember the exact words he used when he caught her but he clearly remembered the adrenaline-high. Christ, how sick was that?

Shaking himself off he moved across the kitchen to fix a drink, staring moodily as the steam rose from the boiling water and acting largely on autopilot.

There had almost been an incident at the Dispatch earlier. Spears was handing out the To Die lists and Knox was rambling about how he had spotted him off in the distance with "some chick" after stumbling out of a party. He had nothing personal against the kid but if he got too curious it might be wise to rough him up a little, just enough to teach him to keep that fast-talking mouth shut and his nose out of it. As it was he had almost nutted Grell when he made some ridiculous throwaway comment about "poor little Alan". Alan. Of all the beings in all the Realms why did it have to be Alan?

The cup exploded with a satisfying smash when he hurled it against the wall, bleeding tea down the white plaster. He stuck an arm out over the counter and swept off whatever happened to be in reach. It was stupid, pointless, and destructive, but it was it was something he had control over... unlike those vicious bloody Thorns who were taking _his_ Alan away from him. Alan who kept on smiling that perfect smile and was slowly killing him with it. Why?

He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing brooding when reality seeped through again. He would have to watch that, too much sleep-deprivation could lead a man to do odd things. Giving a strangled laugh he realised that he was actually _grateful_ that Alan was confined to the infirmary tonight, less explaining to do and maybe he could spin that the replacement china was a present "just because".

_Another lie, Slingby? You seem to be getting rather good at that._

Besides, he had to get going. It was about the time of night when the more popular whores were occupied and the streets gave way to rookie rent-boys, nobody would miss one or two. Shaking a cigarette from the packet he lit up, crushing the broken crockery underfoot and went back out into the night.


End file.
